


i learned my passion (in the good old fashioned school of lover boys)

by lucygu



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Queen (Band) References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 11:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20096632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucygu/pseuds/lucygu
Summary: “It was him, wasn’t he? The man from the picture.”Crowley sleepy muttered something.“The photo I found, remember? It was him. Freddie Mercury.”





	i learned my passion (in the good old fashioned school of lover boys)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything in forever, but my best friend and partner in crime (aka the person who basically forced me to read Good Omens and lets me rant non-stop about Queen) asked me to write this, so here I am.

Aziraphale drew a photo from an old box. Most of Crowley's possessions were now in his shop, not that it was something they talked about: Crowley seemed to spend all his time at Aziraphale's nowadays, he moved his plants (_“I can't leave them alone, Aziraphale, who knows what they'd be up to if I didn't keep an eye on them?” _ ) and then almost every other items he owned, nonchalantly _ forgetting _to take them back when he returned to his flat.

Aziraphale wasn't so naive not to see what Crowley was doing, but he didn't mind it at all, so he always pretended to believe it when Crowley said that he forgot a jacket at his place and would get it back next time (the next time was always not later than one day after, and neither of them ever mentioned the jackets and shoes and plants).

The box must have belonged to Crowley, because Aziraphale was completely sure he didn't own any of _ The Velvet Underground _ vinyl. Underneath, he found the photo.

It was old and a bit faded. The back of a man was turned against the camera, only a side of his face visible; he was sitting by a piano, his fingers almost worshipping the keys. On the left side of the photo, there was someone who was unmistakably Crowley. He was lying on the same bench, his head on the man’s thigh, a warm smile on his face. He had his sunglasses on, but Aziraphale liked to imagine he had his eyes closed, peacefully enjoying the melody.

Aziraphale smiled at it and felt like he couldn't wait to show the photo to Crowley.

He didn’t have to wait long, a couple of hours later Crowley sneaked in and snuggled against him on the sofa. Aziraphale carefully put his cocoa mug on the table and sighed happily, circling the demon with his arms, chuckling softly at this _ new _thing they had and at the thought that they had to thank the Apocalypse for this.

“Look at what I found”

He showed the photo to Crowley with a grin, eager to ask about the story behind it, flinching only slightly when Crowley snatched the photo from his hands and jumped on his feet. “Where did you find it?”

“It was in a box in the back a-”

“So you thought you could just go through my stuff?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at that, which was enough for Crowley. “Sorry- Sorry. Of course, you can go through my stuff, I don’t care about that. Forget it.”

“I was just curious to know who that man-”  
“No one. He’s no one. Can we just… talk about something else.”

Aziraphale nodded and made space for Crowley on the sofa. He was used to Crowley’s bizarre behaviour, on occasions, but he couldn’t help but notice the way he was still clutching the photo.

It wasn’t until years later that Aziraphale thought about that evening and the photo again.

Bohemian Rhapsody had just been released and everybody was talking about it. Aziraphale was well aware of how much Crowley liked Queen, so he thought it would be fun to go to the cinema together. It wasn’t something they usually did, but humans seemed to enjoy it. They wanted to try the whole experience, so they bought popcorn and ice cream and candies (Crowley mentioned that most people around them only bought one of those, but Aziraphale ignored him).

Crowley seemed very upset by anything that, according to him, wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, and more than one person angrily told him to shut up, so Aziraphale decided to hold his hand to shush him so they wouldn’t get thrown out (that was the official excuse, at least).

Almost at the end of the movie, when Freddie came clean about his illness, Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice how Crowley tensed, his eyes fixed on the screen, almost pleading. He wanted to say something, but in the end settled on holding his hand tightly, stroking his finger on the back of Crowley’s hand.

Crowley seemed almost fine after they left, and Aziraphale didn’t want to make things worse by asking. He listened to Crowley talking about how good seeing Live Aid was, while the memory of the photo crept into his mind.

“The man who played Freddie was good, though.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at that. “Of course you’d think he is.”

“Of course you’d think he isn’t.”

They kept bickering about the film and Queen and the fact that real music was dead (according to Crowley) but Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and never stopped grinning until they got to the bookshop.

Unfortunately for Crowley, Aziraphale wasn’t very good at letting things go.

They were lying down on the bed, Crowley dozing off while Aziraphale read and stroked his hair. They didn’t need to rest, but Aziraphale liked reading and Crowley liked sleeping.

“It was him, wasn’t he? The man from the picture.”

Crowley sleepy muttered something.

“The photo I found, remember? It was him. Freddie Mercury.”

Crowley was definitely more awake now. He stared at Aziraphale for a moment, as if considering whether to lie, then nodded.

“You never told me about him. Were you friends? Lovers?” A pause. Aziraphale took it as a yes.

“I knew it! You never said anything!”

“There is nothing to say, Angel. We were friends. And sometimes we were more.”

Aziraphale was still grinning, so Crowley snorted and went back under the cover. The next question took him by surprise. Not for the question itself, but for the more sombre, almost serious tone Aziraphale used. “Were you in love with him?”

Crowley sat back up and sighed. “No” he really wanted to point out that he was a demon, but he didn’t see the point with Aziraphale. “I enjoyed his company. Maybe even cared about him. But I wasn’t like… it wasn’t like…”

“Like what?” Aziraphale prompted.

“Damn it, Angel, are you really going to make him say it?” Aziraphale looked genuinely curious, but Crowley knew him too well to fall for it. “It wasn’t like… like us. I didn’t… care for him the way I care for you”. Crowley could almost feel himself blush. And he almost wished the Apocalypse had gone through.

Aziraphale was grinning happily now, that bastard, like he’d got what he was looking for. Crowley would have loved to pretend he was annoyed a little longer, to save his pride, but Aziraphale gently pushed him back down onto the bed. Crowley suddenly didn’t feel tired or embarrassed anymore.

Aziraphale made breakfast the morning after. Crowley usually sat with him watching him fondly or bothering him just because he enjoyed their usual banter.

“Can I ask you something else? About your relationship with Freddie.”

“I would hardly call it a relationship, Angel, but ask away.”

“You were lovers, though. Why did it end? Was it because he was human? Was it… was it because he died?”

Crowley was wearing his sunglasses, but Aziraphale could still tell his eyes were wide open behind the lens. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “I have to go. I have… things. That I have to deal with.”

“Crowley” Aziraphale tried to stop him before he could get to the door. “I’m sorry, my dear, you don’t have to leave, or answer me if you don’t want to. I won’t ask any more questions.”

“It’s fine, Angel. I just need to go. I’ll see you at lunch.” Crowley left before Aziraphale could say anything else, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the bacon burning in the pan.

They usually met at _ their _bench at St James’s Park when they went out for lunch and weren’t already together. Aziraphale would never confess his relief when Crowley sat next to him.

“I have a story to tell you, Angel, so let me talk.”  
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t-”

“We weren’t together when he died. I didn’t know he was sick.” he paused. “If I had known…”  
“You still couldn’t have done anything” Aziraphale interrupted him. “It’s not how it works.”

“I know that.” Crowley snorted. “I know that, it’s just…”

He turned around to face Aziraphale. If Aziraphale hadn’t known him for so long and so well he would have missed that Crowley was actually nervous. Aziraphale found it endearing.

“He left me. Long before that.” Crowley turned around to see a duck walking around them. It was probably eavesdropping. He decided he didn’t care: they survived the Apocalypse and a murder attempt from Hell and Heaven, it didn’t really matter if they heard this.

“He said he couldn’t be with me. Not when I was… in love with somebody else.”

Aziraphale seemed confused, as if he was still waiting for the conclusion of the story. Crowley rolled his eyes and kissed him, giving the duck the finger behind his back.

Aziraphale beamed.


End file.
